


Dirk Vores the Epilogues

by akgerhardt



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, Stuffing, anyway requests are open in the link on my tumblr, but i worked too hard on it and unleashing chaotic bastards is fun, illustrated crack, indubitably the worst fucking thing here, inflation kink asmr turned existential crisis, my dick inverted whilst creating this monster, somehow a fix-it fic, this isn't even one of my 69 fetishes; i was cyberbullied into writing it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:27:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23498275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akgerhardt/pseuds/akgerhardt
Relationships: Jake English/Dirk Strider
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	Dirk Vores the Epilogues

**I'll admit, I'm surprised you actually clicked on this.**

**I mean, obviously you're curious, thirsting, or both- I wouldn't blame you if you unlocked a plethora of fetishes thanks to me. I won't, however, apologize for being hot shit. I can't help it- I was written this way, by me. You're goddamn welcome.**

**Anyway, I'm not here to kinkshame you. Unless that's another one of your kinks? That'd be understandable. Hell, even** **_I_ ** **get off to my soliloquies. Part of my daily routine involves degrading myself in the mirror while admiring how fucking jacked I am. You'd like to be that mirror, wouldn't you?** **_God Judges Your Character and Life Decisions: ASMR._ **

**I'd like to take a moment to acknowledge that I have the feral Seer to thank for giving me this idea. The other one. She got me thinking, what if there was a way for me to enjoy my Fanta flavor text even more? What if there was a way to** **_taste_ ** **it? So I said "fuck it," and penciled that into canon.**

**As much as I want my words of wisdom made available to you loyal readers, their succulent citrus charm is irresistible to this flawed deity. But that's what you want, isn't it? You want me to eat my words, and I'm happy to do that for you. Mostly for me, though, because let's be real: I have the munchies and want to find out just how many Times New Roman characters I can cram into this rockin' bod.**

**I've been practicing, working up to whole damn fanfics and even that cursed shit known as the "Skaianet Systems" lore. Remember, we're at the mercy of batshit authors unless** **_you_ ** **take the reins. Grab destiny by the dick and make it your joystick. That's what I'm doing. To adapt Jessica Rabbit's line and reemphasize: I'm not bad- I'm just written that way. So let's have some fun.**

 **Without anymore fanfare, we get down and dirty with the fan** **_service_** **. I perch my chiseled ass by an imaginary computer and start typing furiously. My abs clench, my biceps flex, and my pecs contract in sync like Terry Crews on that** **_Old Spice_ ** **commercial as I spin my web of lies. Juicy stories spill into my mouth almost faster than I can swallow- "almost" being the key word. I may be many things, but I am a good swallower. [Insert obligatory "giving head" joke.]**

**Sentence after sentence tumbles down my throat, filling me past the brim with a delicious sensation. I'm full of hot air in the most literal sense, and I just keep getting bigger. God, it feels amazing... I'm already larger than life, so might as well keep growing. My cosplay tank tears beautifully, giving it a stretched, rugged appearance.**

**I lock my half-lidded eyes with yours seductively, cheeks tinted pink. Of course, they're hidden by my shades, but my piercing gaze fixes you nonetheless. I slap my rapidly-expanding gut and murmur,** **_"This bad boy can fit so much narrative relevance."_ **

**It makes a hollow echo and wobbles as it rebounds, like an elastic ball. You like that~? Just wait 'til it's-**

  
  


**Oh. Well, all art has a price. Especially the performative types. Fuck it, maybe I can alchemize another if Rose pries. The one thing I regret about my childhood was not learning how to mend garments. One track mind, one track heart, and they were both set on sewing erotic puppets. I could have WikiHow'd it at any point, but I had priorities, namely adding to my heavenly plush pile. I think losing that routine was the main reason shit hit the fan once we entered our session. I didn't mourn Cal nearly as much, despite all that we'd been through together. I especially don't give a shit now that he's some demonic chucklefuck in my head.**

**… Speaking of which, that gives me an idea.**

**Cal is no longer part of me. His splinter? Wack. Me? I'm tight as fuck. Sayonara, husk of my limp-limbed childhood companion. I fuckin' trusted you.**

**Just like that, he's gone. The shitfest known as my subconscious becomes that much quieter.**

**Heart powers are pretty damn incredible. I wish I thought of that six years ago, but whatever. One less distraction for our stuffing show.**

**Ok, tangent's over. I'm feeling pretty emboldened as your exhibitionist, so I'm gonna try something more ambitious. How b-i-i-i-ig can I be? Let's find out, you and me.**

**I focus on the invisible threads surrounding me and pull, hard. Post-canon canon bullshit comes my way in strands that unravel inside me, giving me the rumblies. _Mm~_ To put it simply, the narrative is yummy in my tummy. It's like I was subsisting on empty carbs before. **

**_Finally, some good fucking food._ **

**Fuck it, I want it all. Every last cursed word about toes and evil cherubs. I** **_need_ ** **it. It feels so satisfying, as if it'll somehow fix my issues once it fills my void. Issues? I have no issues- I have** **_flaws._ ** **Could a man with issues do this? I think the fuck not.**

 **Checkmate. I finish Meat** **_and_ ** **Candy, then lay back with a sexy groan.**

**Oh, god. I feel like a fucking balloon. Seriously, one little stab from that fake cane and I'll probably zoom around the cave deflating. Thank whatever benevolent entity that may exist for letting me have some privacy with you.**

**...  
**  
** ** **...  
** **  
**...  
**  
Ah. Hm. The multiverse said "sike," I guess. It seems that reality itself is now tearing at the seams.** ****

********

********

**I should be distressed about the present, but I don't give a flying fuck. I welcome nonexistence at this point.**

**If my life were a movie, this would be a great time for a record scratch and freezeframe. How** **_did_ ** **I manage to dig so far below rock bottom? I sure have made decisions.**

**My surroundings glitch and dissipate until I find myself on the floor of the conksucky shack Jake and I used to live in, long before Earth C was properly fucked. We built it ourselves. It was terrible. There's a sort of bittersweet nostalgia now, though. I try in vain to phase back to my villainous lair. Nothing happens, not even the funky techno pixels.**

**Maybe it's the verbal food coma, but I can't be bothered to flip my shit. It's not like I can even fly anywhere like this. I just lay there, tired and kind of sad. I'm sad because I can't reach my dick. I'm also sad because I let my steaming pile of horseshit corral me into a joke of a life instead of just fucking enjoying the time I had with my loved ones and maybe going to therapy.**

**Some part of me wonders if I actually had any agency in the subsequent events. Was** **_I_ ** **the puppet? … MotherFUCK.**

**The more I think about it, the more surreal it all sounds. Splinter assimilation? Himbo beefcake Jake? Wait, didn't Dave straight up come out after we won? And who gives a shit about upholding some bogus "pillars of canon?"**

**Why did I want to continue the game we barely survived, the root of almost all of our hardships and trauma? Why did I break up my goth ecto-daughter and daughter-in-law? When did Jane become a speciesist maneater? No, seriously, none of these are rhetorical questions. I'm confused as hell.**

**I forcibly jizz in my pants before I can kill my boner with existential despair. Then I start crying. It's full-blown waterworks up in here. God, I'm pathetic…**

**As if on queue, Jake walks in on me blubbering. He's not a himbo anymore, and that's all that really needs to be said about the matter. In fact, he looks like a different person- the one I pseudo-remember from before all of this went down. Holy shit, I missed him.**

"Everything copacetic?" he yawns, scratching his boxers.

**I notice that it's dark outside the window, and I try to will him to avert his eyes. This is just a dream, Jake. Nothin' to see here. Go back to sleep. Turn around and walk away. For the love of fuck, don't look.**

**It's like I have no effect on him. He squints for a moment in dumbfounded disbelief, then fumbles for his glasses, turning on the light. I cringe inwardly.**

"HOPPIN' HOT JALAPEÑOS!!! … WHAT IN THE NINE CIRCLES **ARE** YOU, YOU BODY-BUILDING GLOB?!"

"It's-"

"DID YOU *EAT* MY PARAMOUR AND THEN DON HIS SHITTY COSPLAY, NOT UNLIKE THE WOLF FROM _SHREK 2?!_ RELEASE HIM, GLUTTON!!!"

"Jake, it's me," Dirk winces. 

His stomach gurgles in agreement. Jake furrows his brow, uncertain, before slowly putting his miniature pistols back in his undergarments. 

"Holy moley…"

"I'm sorry for making you shit yourself and then marry a fascist. I don't know what possessed me…" 

"What in the Sam Hill are you talking about?"

"It's a long story. Approximately 250k words that are churning away inside of me and erasing themselves from my memory as I speak, like some kind of "undo" button on a fever dream... Hell, I may even forget _this_ happened, which is wild in and of itself."

...

"Are you... feeling quite well?" 

"Physically? Yeah. Mentally? I've been worse," he hiccups, bouncing a bit from the motion.

"Should I call Jane? Is... Is there anything I can get you?"

"God, this is so fucking embarrassing… Can you… ?"

"S- Sorry, I'm afraid I don't follow." 

"... I need rubbins. Please." 


End file.
